


All Things Change

by scottmcchubs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Button Popping, Chubby Scott, Embarrassment, Feeder Stiles, Feeding Kink, M/M, Stuffing, Unintentional Gaining, tight clothes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcchubs/pseuds/scottmcchubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skittles being separated (college?)&Scott who gets very chubby in the meantime. He feels really uncomfortable with his big belly and squeezes himself into way too tight clothes because buying them 3 sizes bigger would mean admitting defeat. He’s really embarrassed about seeing Stiles again… And Stiles is like totally touchy-feely and like woah dude?? And kinda wants to weigh and measure Scott (u need new clothes!), & Scott is so embarrassed until Stiles shows him he’s really REALLY into it…<br/>-<a href="http://chubbywolves.tumblr.com/">chubbywolves</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amorremanet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/gifts).



> Originally a prompt on my [blog!](http://scottmcchubs.tumblr.com)

Scott let out a pathetic sounding grunt after a full ten minutes of struggling with the button of his jeans, letting his head fall back onto his pillow with a defeated expression.

He wouldn’t give up, though. He never did. There was no way he’d actually gained enough weight to not fit into even his loose pants anymore and getting them buttoned was the only way he could avoid accepting that.

After a few minutes of resting on his bed, catching his breath and thinking about how pathetic it was that he actually had to catch his breath while attempting to get dressed, Scott finally got to his feet. He sucked his gut in as hard as he could and finally got the button to snap shut.

He would have let out a sigh of relief if he didn’t fear them bursting the second he moved. It took him three minutes to get the zipper up and two more minutes to get used to the way the fabric cut into his skin. He found a baggy sweater to cover up his beyond embarrassing muffin top and decided to ignore the fact that it didn’t do a very good job at covering his muffin top at all.

He didn’t bother looking in the mirror before he left his dorm room. He didn’t want to face his double chin, the hang of his belly, his thick thighs or stretch marks or soft arms or anything about his body. He didn’t want to face the fact that he had undoubtedly and obviously gotten fat.

He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to let himself go so quickly and drastically, how he’d gotten to the point where having an entire pizza to himself for dinner and a whole pan of brownies for desert became a nightly occurrence.

He didn’t know when breakfast became two omelets plus waffles drowned in syrup, when a whole bag of family sized chips became his usual snack between classes, four burgers for lunch and a pint of ice cream shoveled down before he started his homework.

He barely realized how much he was eating on a daily basis until he couldn’t pull most of his t-shirts over the bottom of his stomach, until his sleeves dug into the fat of his arms, until his damn jeans could barely stretch over his thighs and suddenly, it hit him like a brick wall.

He wanted to cut down, he tried to. He didn’t want to face his mother with an extra twenty pounds (way over twenty if he were being honest) but he’d find himself finishing off three plates from the serve before he remembered the fact that he should have been cutting down.

After a while, he gave up his false hope and gave into the snacks and treats that made him feel better while at the same time making his situation worse with every calorie he stuffed into his face.

He couldn’t have put himself in a worse place if he’d tried.

But it was too late to lose weight and he was way too far gone to pretend like he hadn’t done anything other than gorge on whatever he pleased for his entire first term of college and he was going to have to face that.

He was going to have to face _Stiles_.

Stiles and his remarks and his prodding and worried expression. Scott had seen it in his mind a thousand times, having Stiles ask if he’s taking care of himself and suggesting diets and inquiring about his workout routines all the while giving Scott side glances that would make guilt creep under his skin like nothing else.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle that, the scrutiny from his best friend but it was much too late to change things. Just the thought of it made Scott wish that he was about forty (probably closer to sixty) pounds lighter while at the same time made him want to spend the next hour stuffing his face.

Ultimately, he stopped for food twice before making it back into Beacon Hills.

**

Scott could smell his mom’s enchiladas before he even got to the front door of his house. He licked his lips, feeling hunger creep up despite the fact that he’d enjoyed a sizeable helping of fast food no more than an hour beforehand.

Melissa had mentioned over video chat that she’d be making Scott all of his favorite foods for his arrival since he looked like he might enjoy them a little more, but he honestly thought it was a harmless joke (though it did upset him enough to order a large pizza that night instead of a medium).

Of course, all thoughts of guilt and fear of other’s opinions were washing away as he tripped through the front door, nearly moaning just at the spicy scent flowing through his nostrils.

“Whoa,”

Scott’s eyes flew open at the sound of a smooth, quiet voice in his ears—one that was very distinctly that of his best friend.

Stiles stood with his mouth hanging open, brows almost reaching his hairline with how high they were raised. His eyes were glued to Scott’s midsection, flowing down to his thighs before they finally made their way back up to Scott’s guilt ridden face again. “Hey, uh… hey.”

“Stiles,” Scott muttered, almost speechless. He’d only wished he had a bit more time, maybe to find a pair of jeans that he didn’t think would burst if he breathed too heavily or a sweater that successfully covered up his tummy but Stiles was standing right there like a deer in headlights, staring like he barely recognized him. “I-I, uh… hey, man.”

Stiles closed his mouth, speechless for the first time in his life and Scott actually felt his heart stop beating. He wanted to run away, cry his eyes out and, most overwhelmingly, eat an entire pan of his mom’s home cooked food and that was quite possibly the scariest part.

Luckily for him, Melissa came padding in from the kitchen with a massive grin. “Scott!” She said cheerfully, practically running over to her son to give him a loving hug and a kiss on the cheek. She took a step back, brow raised before she laid a hand over his belly. “Oh, I’m definitely glad I made extra…”

“Mom!” Scott whined, going wide eyed as Melissa pulled her hand back with a sweet grin.

“What? You look nice! Doesn’t he, Stiles?”

He looked back and forth between the two of them before biting his lip and swallowing. “Yeah, you look… nice. Very nice, actually, I’m—,”

“Stiles, please.” Scott mumbled, closing his eyes as his face flushed bright red at Stiles’ pathetic attempt at coddling. “I know how I look. Let’s just go upstairs, dude. Catch up a little before we have dinner?”

He managed a sweet smile because, well, regardless of how awfully their reunion had begun, he still missed Stiles like nothing else. He’d dreaded facing him again, but he was most definitely looking forward to time spent with his best friend.

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles grinned back, giving Melissa a quick wave before bounding up the stairs towards Scott’s room. All the while, Scott gave his mother an irritated look before she put her hands up in defense.

“What? Don’t act like it isn’t obvious, Scott.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out through his nose before he stepped forward to give Melissa’s forehead a quick kiss. “I know, but just… try not embarrassing me so much next time?” He paused, grinning hugely before he peered into the kitchen. “Thanks a ton for dinner, by the way.”

“The least I could do is make your favorite.” Melissa said, fixing Scott’s hair before her hands dropped to pat his belly again. “But don’t expect this type of treatment every time you’re home for break. And I expect a clean sink before I leave for work tonight, okay?”

“Of course.” Scott nodded, shying away from her hand. He planted a kiss on her cheek before turning to head up the stairs. He stopped outside of his door and spent a few seconds trying to cover the hang of his belly and let out a light, defeated sigh and decided that sucking in as much as he could would be his best bet.

He stepped through the door, held his breath, and let it shut behind him as he came face to face with a very mesmerized looking Stiles.

“So, uh,” He started, swallowing hard. It took him a while to break his gaze away from Scott’s middle, almost like it pained him to finally meet his best friend’s eyes. “How’s college?”

“It’s good.” Scott responded, a simple answer to a simple question. He definitely felt like the underlining connotation was something like: “how the hell did you let yourself go this much in three months, Scott?”, but he decided to try his absolute hardest to ignore that. “It’s kind of stressful, but I’m having fun and stuff.”

“Been treating you well, then?” Stiles asked, quirking a brow with the sort of excited grin that made Scott nervous—the type of grin that had been getting him put in the back of police cruisers since they were ten. “Because it looks like college has been treating you, like, really, really well.”

Scott rolled his eyes, a big, dramatic gesture that Stiles chuckled at. “Shut up, dude!”

“Oh, I’m kidding!” Stiles defended, finally crossing the room and cutting the tension all at once. He prodded at Scott’s stomach, slapping his hand away when he tried to catch Stiles’ wrist and finally looked up to Scott as he pinched at him. “Come on, dude. We both know you haven’t been breathing since you walked into the room. Just let it out, all right? I’ve already seen the worst of it, no use in trying to hide now.”

Scott winced, chewing on his lip before he let out a heavy breath and slouched, watching Stiles eyes grow even wider as his belly expanded and peeked out underneath his top. Stiles spread his fingers over the fabric of the sweatshirt, biting softly at his lip before he spoke. “We should get all of this out of the way now, right? So I can be like… used to it.”

Scott looked a little dumbfounded, shaking his head. “What do you mean?”

Stiles rose an eyebrow, lifting another hand to make small circles with his palms over Scott’s belly, staring at it with a type of fascination Scott couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I mean, like, you’re different now. And I haven’t been able to get used to the change over time the way I could have if we’d been together, you know? So, just let me touch you and stuff for a while so I can get over the initial shock of it and we can get back to normal.”

Scott furrowed his brows, glaring down at Stiles for a few seconds. It sounded like the type of ridiculous, barely sensible logic he spouted to his dad when he wanted to do something he would never be allowed to do. It was something that Stiles had easily perfected and really, it was the type of thing that was difficult for most people to argue against.

Scott didn’t exactly have an outright issue with it, though. Stiles’ hands felt kind of nice since he was rubbing and soothing rather than poking bruises into his skin. What Scott didn’t understand was why—why would Stiles feel the need to make up some stupid excuse to touch Scott? And more importantly, why would Stiles want to touch Scott in the first place?

He was nothing but a massive, greedy ghost of himself and he didn’t think he deserved the type of gentle touch Stiles gave to him.

But instead of addressing that he simply shrugged and patted Stiles’ shoulder. “Whatever makes you comfortable, I guess.”

Stiles glanced up for a moment, expression bright. Though it turned darker for a quick moment before a smarmy grin spread across his lips. “Speaking of comfortable, what the hell makes you think wearing jeans that are six sizes too small is fooling anyone? Seriously, you look like you’re wearing baby’s clothes.”

“Come on, Stiles, I haven’t had time to get a new pair.” Scott defended, face reddening as Stiles looked up again and gave the most outlandish eye roll he could manage.

“Really?” He asked, finally sitting up fully as he crossed his arms. “Because people don’t just gain fifty pounds in a weekend, dude. This has been a build-up of very unhealthy habits since the beginning of the semester and I don’t believe for one second you haven’t had time in the last three months to get yourself a new pair of jeans.”

“I have not gained more than twenty pounds!” Scott said quickly, knowing good and well his face burned a vibrant pink and his lie was probably just as telling as his double chin. “And obviously, these jeans still fit, so…”

Stiles scoffed, giving Scott a condescending expression before he hooked his fingers into one of the belt loops. “These jeans don’t fit. These jeans probably haven’t fit for a while and you look a tad ridiculous in them.”

“Why do you have to be such a dick, Stiles?” Scott asked, finally managing to shoo away Stiles’ hand before he gave an apologetic look and took a quick step forward, shaking his head.

“Not being a dick, buddy.” He defended, plain and simple like there was no arguing with him. “I’m just speaking the truth. And really, if you want to walk around with your stomach hanging out and too small jeans, well… let’s just say that you won’t hear me complaining.”

Scott drew his brows together again, shaking his head as he cocked it to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean precisely what I said, dude.” He patted Scott’s shoulder, eyes falling down to the bottom of his sweatshirt before he let a curious hand drag over the bare skin. He swallowed, then, licking his lips a little and pulled his hand back just as quickly as he’d went for it. “I won’t complain.”

Just like that, Stiles was making his way down the stairs again, saying something about how he couldn’t stand sitting up in Scott’s room with the incredible smell of Melissa’s home cooked food was within walking distance.

Scott was actually kind of surprised he was able to push away his cravings for long enough to have a coherent conversation with Stiles. But the second he walked into the kitchen and Stiles was gingerly removing the foil from the searing hot pan of enchiladas, he lost any sort of self-control he previously had.

He almost forgot that people usually ate meals like that with a plate until Stiles handed him one. When he was alone in his dorm room, he rarely bothered with them and would go through a family sized lasagna straight from the plastic pan because it was just easier than getting up for seconds and thirds and fourths.

He wondered if having to actually get up from the table for more would be enough to hinder him from scarfing down so much food.

He took a seat after dishing out a sizable portion, eyeing how much Stiles had gotten for himself and made sure to not get too much more than him. He honestly thought that with Stiles right there, watching him like a hawk, he’d have enough pride to not completely pig out and embarrass himself more than he already had.

But the second the food was on his tongue and he’d swallowed the first bite, stomach already struggling against the two rather large snacks and big breakfast he’d had that day, he knew there was no way he was going to stop until he was satisfied.

It showed to be true when Scott was setting his fork down on a clear plate before Stiles was even halfway through his first. He licked his lips, swallowing thickly with his eyes glued to what was left from Stiles. His best friend grinned, reaching across the table before Scott even had time to react. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you some more, buddy.”

He did. Returning with plenty more than Scott had initially gotten. It wasn’t as if Scott wouldn’t have eaten that, easily, but it still made his embarrassment peak to know that Stiles knew he how much he wanted. It was like Stiles was testing him.

It didn’t stop Scott from picking up his fork before Stiles had even set the plate down, though. He dug in, eating just a little bit slower the second time around because he was feeling a kind of full. Though, by most people’s standards, he inhaled what was in front of his face and sat back with a short groan, let his hand fall to his belly before it registered that Stiles was still across from him.

He sat with his mouth wide open, food barely touched and gave a slight headshake when he seemed to notice that Scott picked up on the fact that he was practically gaping. “More?” He asked, reaching out for the plate before Scott shook his head. “No? Seriously? You still look pretty hungry to me, dude.”

“I ate a lot before I came, man, seriously.” Scott told him, shaking his head. Stiles was persistent, though, and simply pushed his plate across the table and gave Scott an expectant look.

“Just finish mine, then. Big boys gotta eat, right?”

Scott winced, curling his lip because being a big boy was exactly the problem. The sting from the comment didn’t do much other than fuel his desire to bury the pain with more calories and the next thing he knew, he was stuffing forkfuls of Mexican into his face like it was his first helping.

He sat back against the chair with whine, wood squeaking underneath his weight. He barely managed to resist his urge to rub his stomach, tight and aching from being over stuffed.

“Whoa.” Stiles whispered, chewing on his lip with a small shake of his head before he got to his feet, walking around the table press a delicate hand to Scott’s belly. “You realize you ate like three-quarters of that pan in less than twenty minutes, right?”

“No.” Scott said quietly, the onset of guilt after gorging coming way sooner than it usually would with Stiles’ added comments.

“What did you have to eat before this?” Stiles asked, working his hands into the tender spots of Scott’s tummy when he shook his head as a refusal to answer. “I’m just curious, man. Promise to not poke fun.”

“Just a couple of burgers.” Scott muttered, feeling his face flush at the obvious lie he told and Stiles shook his head, giving him a disapproving look.

“No way in hell a dude your size is happy with just a couple of burgers.” Stiles started, kneading a bit more roughly into Scott’s tummy. “Seriously, Scott. I won’t judge, I just want to know.”

“Fine.” Scott huffed, deciding there was only one way to get out of the conversation. “Two bowls of cereal, maybe six or seven sausages, and a stack of pancakes for breakfast, stopped for a burger, chicken nuggets, and a large fry on the way here. The first time.”

“The first time?” Stiles asked, eyes lighting up at the words.

“Yes, Stiles. The first time.” Scott said back, sighing heavily, though his hostility quickly faded when Stiles soothed him with sweet hands against his stomach. “The second time, I got three more burgers and a shake.”

“What size?”

“What size do you think?” Scott asked, wincing a little when Stiles put some pressure on a sensitive area. “Large, dude. It was large.”

“And you still managed to have some of Mama McCall’s food? After all that?” Stiles asked, shaking his head lightly back and forth as his gaze dropped from Scott’s eyes to his belly—something that was happening more often that Scott ever expected.

“Obviously.”

Stiles let out a snort, getting slowly to his feet before he let his arms drape over his chest with a curt shake of his head. “It’s no wonder you’ve practically doubled in size, dude. Jesus Christ.”

“I have not doubled in size!” Scott defended, crossing his arms over the skin poking completely out of the bottom of his sweatshirt with absolutely no hope of being covered since his tummy was insanely full.

Stiles simply smirked and patted Scott softly on the cheek. “At this rate, it will not be long before you have.”

**

“So, like, how much do you think you’ve put on?” Stiles asked, as if the question was entirely casual and Scott sort of felt like it was at that point. Stiles hadn’t even tried to cut down his flow of questions and incessant comments about Scott’s weight in the last day and Scott had become almost used to it.

It may have helped that Stiles just kept presenting Scott with snacks and offering to take him to grab his favorite foods that he’d been missing out on while he was at school. Being constantly stuffed to the brim made Scott feel utterly relaxed and overall, really, really good.

But what didn’t help was Stiles tugging on his tight jeans and attempting to pull down the hem of his shirt when they both knew that it wasn’t going to budge, talking about how Scott really needs to invest in new clothes if he’s going to go out in public any time soon.

And Scott would mentally make the decision to turn away any food Stiles presented him with next, but the stress of being ridiculed and the inevitable soothing touch of Stiles’ hand and big eyes when he asked Scott to just finish the pizza he was nice enough to pay for was enough to make him cave.

He insisted on staying the night and cuddled up close to Scott while he rubbed his angry belly, gurgling against the massive onslaught of food Scott had so graciously stuffed into his face. He didn’t think he’d ever eaten that much in his life and he should have been ashamed. But Stiles made it hard to feel that way when he was rubbing his stomach and saying he how impressed he was with Scott’s ability to just eat the way he did.

He sighed, giving a light shrug at Stiles’ question. “Like I said yesterday, no more than like twenty pounds.”

“It’s just us, Scotty, you don’t have to lie to me.” Stiles muttered, giving Scott a dry expression before he fished around next to him and picked up the pint of ice cream he magically procured from the freezer when they’d come in from their third trip to McDonald’s yet. “Seriously, what’s your best guess?”

Scott bit his lip, plucking the tub out of Stiles’ hand and waited for a spoon. Stiles grinned and provided one before sitting on his knees to loom over Scott, watch him closely. “I don’t know… maybe… thirty pounds?”

“Maybe in one thigh,” Stiles teased, letting a light hand push up the t-shirt Scott had barely managed to squeeze into. He took the liberty of tearing off the top of the ice cream for Scott, moving a little bit closer to him. “I’d say at least fifty… probably like sixty-five.”

Scott shook his head, cheeks flushing as he scooped out a massive bite of mint brownie ice cream and moaned a little around the bits of Andie’s chocolate. “No way, Stiles. I’m not that big.”

“You are so totally that big, dude.” Stiles retorted, rolling his eyes at the notion that Scott wasn’t. Scott had another large bite, not even taking the time to lick the spoon clean before he began shoveling smaller bites down, quickly. “I mean come on, how do you expect to not get this big with how you eat?”

“I’m only eating this much because you keep putting food in front of me.” Scott argued, taking a break to avoid the inevitable brain freeze that would come from eating so fast. Stiles scoffed, pushing a little harder than necessary into Scott’s stomach.

“First of all, you would have eaten this much without me no doubt, Scott. Again, you don’t get this big from a healthy diet and plenty of exercise. This,” he paused, reaching down to jiggle Scott’s belly for emphasis, “is from stuffing your face with four or five huge ass meals a day and plenty of snacking in-between.”

Scott frowned, dropping the spoon into the tub before Stiles combed his hair back and gave him a sweet smile. “You can say no if you want to, Scott. I’m not going to beg you to finish this totally delicious ice cream, but if you want to and that’s fine. Really, it is. Whatever makes you happy is more than fine. I want you to be happy.”

Stiles picked up a tiny spoonful of ice cream and popped it into his mouth, moaning softly as before he gave Scott a lovely smile and held it out for him, offering it up.

“I kind of hate mint, dude. You should really have it.” He shrugged, as if this wasn’t the third “snack” Stiles had held in front of Scott’s face in the last hour, as if Stiles hadn’t coaxed Scott through four breakfast burritos, half a package of bacon and three slices of toast slathered in butter that morning followed by four burgers, two large fries and enough bags of chips for Scott to loose count entirely.

Scott just let out a soft whine, took the pint, and had himself another bite, the biggest yet and Stiles’ hand was back on his belly the moment he swallowed it down. “I kind of wish we would have saved that, though. I’m kind of really in the mood for baking and I think I’m going to whip up some brownies after we finish this movie.”

Scott grinned, almost gasping as he dragged his tongue over the spoon. “The ones your dad used to make? With caramel and nuts?”

“Yes, Scott, those brownies.” Stiles sighed, shaking his head a little at Scott’s enthusiasm. “You know, if I’d known food got you this excited I would have been using it against you for years.”

“It’s just because I haven’t had them in forever.” Scott shrugged, frowning when he looked into the bucket and noticed that he was already halfway through. “And they are really freaking delicious.”

“Don’t I know it.” Stiles grinned, looking quite proud of himself. “But really, I’m not sure if I’ll get any with you around. Seriously, how the hell are you already almost done with that?”

“It’s not even that much ice cream!” Scott defended, drawing his brows together as he held up the pint. “I eat these in one sitting all the time.”

Stiles stilled, raising a brow before he pushed his hands into Scott’s soft flesh again, staring at the mound with a light shake of his head. “You are ridiculous, Scott McCall.”

“What?”

“Just finish your damn ice cream so that we can get back to relaxation.” Stiles said, cocking his head toward the TV that had barely been touched since Scott arrived. It seemed that the second Scott finished one thing, Stiles had another ready, regardless of the fact that he was always asking Scott to speed up the process so that they could do exactly what Stiles was preventing by offering up more for him to eat.

The process was all too circular and utterly illogical but Scott couldn’t even bring himself to say anything. He was positive it was because feeling so full that he thought his stomach might burst was probably the greatest thing he’d ever experienced, and having Stiles around meant he could feel it all the time. Why would he try to talk him out of whatever weird reason he had for literally bringing a constant flow of food to Scott’s mouth?

But if anyone asked, he’d probably blame it on the fact that his mouth was just too full for him to speak up.

**

“I went through all this trouble to find you a tape measure and you aren’t even going to use it?” Stiles asked, giving an offended look that Scott really didn’t think he had the right to be wearing.

“I never asked you to get a tape measure, Stiles!” Scott offered, earning an irritated scoff from his best friend.

It was day three of Scott being home for break, Stiles having left shortly after he and Scott actually settled down to watch a movie over some leftover spaghetti Stiles pulled out of the fridge for Scott to eat mindlessly.

Scott really wasn’t aware that his house had so much damn food it in.

After a while, Melissa decided she actually wanted a chance to speak with her son and the Sheriff had been texting Stiles non-stop about when he would be home and they decided it was probably best to take a break from doing nothing together and actually spend time with other people.

Melissa had given Scott a little cash to purchase clothes that actually fit and though Scott begged him not to, Stiles insisted on joining him on his little trip to the mall. Now, they were arguing about what size Scott would need to buy and Stiles had actually pulled out the tape measure.

“How else are we supposed to know how big your waist is?”

“It’s called guessing and checking, dude. If the jeans fit, then I’ve found my waist size.” That type of thing made sense for most people and it was exactly how Scott shopped before college. But really, he just planned to get jeans the entire world knew were too small just to keep his own twisted illusion that he hadn’t gained the embarrassing amount of weight that was really undeniable at that point.

“I’m sorry, but your absolutely skewed judgment of what fits and what clearly doesn’t is not going to get you proper clothing. At all.” Stiles took a step forward, shaking the tape measure as Scott put up his arms in defense. “Scott, come on, stop being such a baby!”

“You can’t measure me right now, anyway.” Scott said, crossing his arms over his belly as he shrugged. “I just ate so my stomach is bigger than it would usually be.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, letting out a quick huff as he raised his brow. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure that you are in a constant state of ‘having just eaten’ and your belly is really only going to be growing with the rate you’re stuffing your face at now.”

“I plan on cutting down when I go back to school.” Scott said quickly, face flushing as Stiles finally filled the space between them and shook his head, wrapping his arms lightly around Scott’s middle.

“You don’t need to cut down, Scott.” Stiles reassured, fumbling behind Scott’s back as he positioned the tape measure, grinning up at him. “You just need bigger clothes.”

He kissed Scott’s chin, a gesture that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary between the two of them, but felt weird considering everything else about the situation. Ultimately, Scott decided to just let Stiles do what he wanted. There was really no stopping him at that point.

He lifted his arms a little, allowing Stiles to bring the tape measure around the biggest point of Scott’s belly and went wide eyed at the number. “Fuck.”

“Don’t tell me.”

“Fifty-three.” Stiles breathed, whistling as he slowly moved the tape measure down to Scott’s hips, biting his lip as he read the number. “Forty-six. Damn… what size are these jeans? Thirty-eight or something? How the hell are you squeezing into these things, my fucking God.”

“Would you quit?” Scott asked quietly, voice coming out in an embarrassed mumble as he gently shoved Stiles’ hand away from him. “Seriously, I had no idea I was that—,”

“Shut up.” Stiles interjected, putting a finger to Scott’s mouth. “Seriously, don’t go getting all self-depreciative on me. A stupid number on a piece of plastic doesn’t matter, okay? What matters is you being happy and you know what I think would make you very happy right now?”

Scott gave a small smile, reaching forward to place his hands on Stiles’ sides. He waited a moment, grinning when the buzzer went off. “Fresh brownies.”

Scott blushed bright pink because yeah, stuffing his face with warm, gooey chocolate sounded like the perfect thing to make him feel a little bit better about the seriously shocking number of inches he’d put on.

“Take a seat and relax, okay?” Stiles told him, ushering Scott toward the living room with an excited grin. “I’ll bring them to you once they’re cool enough. And you can have the rest of my sub too, if you want.”

Stiles finished with a wink, knowing good and well that Scott would tote his ass into the living room and eat whatever Stiles had left over from lunch. Scott wasn’t sure if he could consider the third meal they’d eaten that day lunch, though.

Scott turned on the TV and took a seat on the comfy chair, plucking up the rest of Stiles’ sandwich on his way. He sat down, spreading his legs to accommodate for the hang of his belly and tugged his pants up a little, managing to get them to control his pouch.

He finished three quarters of a foot-long in three massive bites and groaned when he swallowed the last bit down. He hadn’t felt hungry since he’d woken up that morning. Stiles managed to keep him full since he’d arrived, handing him leftovers from the night before and taking him out for another round of whatever Scott wanted once the house was officially clear of anything he could stuff in his face.

He almost couldn’t imagine actually eating more until Stiles was toting the brownies into the living room and the rich scent hit his nostrils. He bit his lip, suppressing the moan that was threatening to slip through his lips when he actually laid eyes on what was probably his favorite dessert of all time.

“Yeah, Scotty,” Stiles muttered, biting his lip as he set the brownies on the side table, giving a quick wink. “Even added extra melted fudge to the top. These might kill you dude. I’m not even kidding, like, these are quite possibly the best brownies I’ve ever made in my life.”

“You haven’t even tried them yet.” Scott said, rolling his eyes a little at Stiles’ big-headed rant.

“I definitely want you to have the first bite, dude.” Stiles muttered, face flushing pinkish as his expression turned completely serious. “I want to see your face.” His voice was low when the words came out. Almost a whisper, like he was saying something forbidden. “Can I, um—Can I sit on your lap, man?”

Scott swallowed, thickly but nodded regardless. He couldn’t say no to Stiles and even if he’d decided to, Stiles would surely make up a fool-proof excuse for why that was the only way Scott could enjoy the homemade brownies that Stiles was determined to see him scarf down.

Plus, he didn’t exactly want to deny Stiles of that privilege.

He practically jumped when Scott agreed, pulling the side table as close to the chair as possible for the easiest access. He nestled himself on one of Scott’s legs, his lithe body light and tiny compared to Scott’s, but he barely seemed to notice. He reached into the pan, taking out a chunk of brownie and t’sked softly after he did. “God, there’s no use in getting both our hands covered in chocolate, right?”

“I guess.” Scott shrugged, brows drawing together like he didn’t quite understand what Stiles was getting at it.

“So you’re cool with me just feeding you, then?” Stiles asked, eyes so bright and excited that Scott couldn’t have turned him down if he’d tried. He gave a light, curt nod and Stiles didn’t hesitate for a second before pushing the chunk to Scott’s mouth.

He felt his cheeks burn completely red, taking small, modest bites as to not make a complete pig of himself, not when Stiles was right there, so close and literally feeding Scott out of his hand.

Stiles pulled back with a heavy sigh after a few moments, looking irritated as he shook his head. “Dude, seriously? I don’t have all fucking day, just eat like you normally do.”

“Stiles,” Scott whined, glancing between the brownie and Stiles’ face, as he squirmed in the chair. “I just… I don’t want you to, you know, judge me or whatever. For eating so much and being so… fat, I guess.” Scott said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not going to judge you.” He said quickly, simply, sounding sympathetic and entirely genuine. “I’ve watched you sit on your ass and eat unholy amounts of food for the last two days and have I once judged you for it?”

“No, I don’t—I don’t think so.”

“Of course I haven’t.” Stiles told him, dragging the nails of his free hand through Scott’s curls, a smile creeping across his mouth. “I never would. Like I said before, as long as you’re doing what makes you happy, I don’t give two shits what it is. And I know you’ve been stressed and nervous about the extra pounds and I totally know that eating these brownies I worked so hard on will make you feel tons better. So,”

He held up the bite, swaying it back and forth just to watch Scott’s mouth follow it before he realized how ridiculous he must have looked. Stiles let out a giggle, pressing the brownie close enough to Scott’s mouth for him to bite off.

He got half into his mouth when he actually ate the way he wanted to, brows drawing together in pleasure as he moaned around the delicious chocolate, gooey melted caramel and chunks of nuts. He chewed it down in almost no time at all and Scott was opening his mouth for more.

Stiles complied, graciously giving Scott what was left in his hand. He pulled off another piece while Scott was still chewing, almost whining when Scott let out a soft groan at a particularly fudge filled bite. “You enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah,” Scott mumbled, mouth full of sweet, rich goodness that he didn’t think he could ever get enough of. “Really good, Stiles. Like seriously, best brownies I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Shh, just keep eating, dude. Want you to just relax and eat, okay?” Stiles voice was almost shaking, so quiet and soft, like it he was watching something secret and intimate that he was somehow interrupting—like he felt out of place sitting on Scott’s lap.

Maybe he should have.

But Scott didn’t have time to care, he was too busy letting his mouth fall wide open for the warm chocolate that Stiles kept offering up, so eager to keep Scott’s mouth stuffed with it. It wasn’t hard, though, especially when Scott began to slow down, the tightness of his belly getting to be too much, even for him.

“Stiles,” He mumbled, letting out a sigh of relief when his best friend finally paused. “I’m getting really full, dude, I don’t know if—,”

“Just a little bit left, man. Seriously, I made these just for you, I really want you to finish.”

“Stiles, seriously, I think I might burst.”

“But you like that, right?” Stiles asked, his voice cracking and still so light, his breathing heavy and fast. “You like feeling this full, don’t you? You like stuffing yourself like this, like being all bloated and,” he pushed his hand into the still surprisingly soft flesh of his belly, earning a light moan from Scott as he kneaded in, rubbing softly, “so, so full. God, you are so—,”

He cut himself short, biting his lip while he shook his head hard, like he was pushing away his final thought. His skin was flushed completely red and Scott could almost hear how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. Scott swallowed, slowly nodding without breaking his gaze from Stiles’. “I—yeah. You’re right, Stiles. I do really, really love being full. And if you want to keep, you know, doing this… helping me finish these brownies, I-I think I’d be pretty happy with it.”

He wasn’t sure what it meant, the way Stiles was flushed and how flustered he was, how he looked as though he might pass out from the pure rush of excitement that seemed to hit him just from hearing Scott’s words, but he liked it. God, he loved every bit of it.

He loved the way Stiles had been touching him, the way he stared when he didn’t think Scott was looking and how he even did it shamelessly when he knew Scott was. Scott even loved the way he teased and pushed, made Scott feel guilty and right all at the same time and how persistent he was. How encouraging he happened to be, whether it was intentional or not.

Until then, he was determined to push any type of satisfaction he got because the thought of Stiles’ little advancements actually being intentional was laughable. Scott couldn’t fathom Stiles being attracted to him when he looked like that, he still couldn’t, but the fact that Stiles was straddling his thick thighs and eagerly holding another handful of chocolate heaven had to mean something.

Scott leaned forward, barely, and Stiles met him the rest of the way as he softly pushed Scott’s shoulders back against the back of the chair and managed to get every bit of the soft brownie in his hands into Scott’s mouth. He chewed, making tiny, pleased noised that only seemed to coax Stiles farther.

Scott almost wished there was more, knowing in the back of his mind that there couldn’t be much left. He didn’t care that his stomach ached with how stuffed it was, didn’t care that his shirt had rode up past his belly button or how his jeans were straining like nothing else against the swell of his stomach. He just wanted to keep eating, he wanted Stiles to keep cramming food into his face.

Stiles raked his fingers through Scott’s curls, holding the last, big corner chunk doused in warm fudge and packed with nuts just out of reach of Scott’s watering mouth. “Want it?”

“Yeah,” Scott sighed, nodding eagerly without breaking his eyes from the brownie.

“Want it even though you’ve got to be more than full?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrow as he pulled the bite back even farther, a smarmy grin on his mouth. “Want it even though you haven’t stopped stuffing your face since you rolled your big ass out of bed this morning?”

Scott let his head bounce up and down, letting out a quiet moan. “Yes, Stiles. I still want it.”

Stiles licked his lip, breathing in sharply through his nose as he shoved the brownie forward. Scott moaned as it slipped past his lips, filling his face right up and he sucked the melted chocolate off of Stiles thumb just to make a show of it.

“Jesus,” Stiles muttered, running his thumb across Scott’s plump lip as he chewed, taking quick, heavy swallows that were actually difficult for him to get down.

Finally, the last bit was settling in his stomach and Scott let his head lull back, groaning softly before he opened his mouth to suck in a heavy breath, letting his belly expand and push as far out as it could before he heard a loud snap and the strain around his stomach suddenly loosen.

Scott then heard the distinct sound of plastic punching fabric immediately followed by Stiles letting out a soft “Oomph!”

Both boys’ eyes darted down to his flat tummy where the button smacked him right above his belly button before Stiles ever-so-slowly lifted his gaze to meet Scott’s.

“I-,” He mumbled, shaking his head, face flushing a vibrant pink with embarrassment and, probably more embarrassing than the button popping itself, with arousal. He couldn’t help the rush of satisfaction he got from actually making the button fly off his jeans from letting out a heavy breath as much as he couldn’t help how disgustingly horrified he felt with himself. “I’m so sorry, Stiles. God, I don’t—I don’t know, I just… I’m s—,”

Stiles was suddenly holding Scott’s chubby cheeks between his hands and diving forward, pressing excited, eager lips to Scott’s and pushed his tongue inside. He even let his hips slid up, connecting to find Scott’s protruding belly and Scott tightened his grip on Scott’s arm when he felt a stiff, clothed cock pressed to his bare skin.

He pulled back after a few moments, idly bucking his hips into Scott’s plush skin, keeping their foreheads pressed together as he spoke. “Fuck, Scott! God I really hope you’re cool with this, man, that was actually the single most attractive thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“You must not have seen very attractive things…”

Stiles came to a halt, brows scrunching together as he pulled back to get a good look at Scott’s face. “You’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen. You were before putting on the weight and you are right now. Scott, you’re gorgeous, you’re incredible, you’re—shit, you are everything. I love your belly and your thighs and your massive ass and the way you eat, God, I’d feed you all damn day if I could, just to see you get like this. Fuck, I wish you could have seen your face dude. It just—it makes me wanna—,”

He leaned forward again, licking greedily into Scott’s mouth again and let his hips rock, cock dragging along the bottom of Scott’s hang until Stiles pulled back again, flushed and dazed as his he rubbed into Scott’s tender belly.

“Seriously? You like this? You like… how I look?” Scott asked, voice soft, knowing this would be the final answer—he’d know whether or not Stiles wanted him after that moment.

“I love how you look, Scott.” He grinned, pushing one hand a little farther up to brush over Scott’s flabby chest as he let out a long sigh. “I’m honestly shocked you hadn’t caught on.”

“I thought I was reading into things.” Scott explained, blushing as Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I’m literally in your lap, humping your bloated stomach after hand feeding you homemade brownies.” Stiles stated, pursing his mouth with a raised brow as he rolled his hips excitedly into Scott again. “You should know that I’m into it.”

“I know now.” Scott muttered, biting his lip with a shrug, lifting one hand to slide over his tight skin. “And, I don’t know, I’m still feeling like I have a little more room in here.”

“God, you greedy bottomless pit.” Stiles uttered, slowly shaking his head as a grin crept across his mouth. “I’ll let you eat the melted fudge from the pot.”

“Oh, hell yeah!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott spends the rest of his break with Stiles and Stiles pushes his limits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a commission and art pieces for the first chapter will be added soon!

“I really don’t see how getting my weight will be helpful in buying me new clothes, Stiles.” Scott sighed, standing in nothing but a pair of briefs that hugged his ass much too tightly for his liking, but it was the best he had. 

He’d decided to strip off his shirt and pants, even while knowing that a few flimsy items of clothing wouldn’t make a difference to the number on the scale, but he couldn’t help but stoop as low as he could to avoid the amount of weight he knew he’d put on.

Stiles rolled his eyes, taking Scott by the arm and dragging him closer to the scale. “We already got all your measurements, dude, we might as well put the icing on the cake.”

Scott sighed, thinking that Stiles was getting much too much pleasure out of the situation as his gaze settled on the bathroom scale. He wondered, briefly, whether 250 lbs. would be a high  
enough limit, feeling his face flush red at the thought of actually maxing the number out. He shook off the thought, though, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t gained nearly that much. 

He’d put on twenty-five pounds at the most.

Yet, he still stood stiff in front of the scale like it was the most terrifying thing he’d ever laid eyes on, the needle taunting him like nothing else. Finally, after almost a full minute of silent internal panic, he felt warm, steady hands gliding across his belly, arms wrapping around his middle before Stiles’ mouth was hovering over his ear.

“Don't worry about the number, Scotty.” He whispered, hands moving in slow, sweet circles over the swell of Scott's tummy, stuffed full from a breakfast of two omelettes, half a package of bacon, and three slices of apple pie. “Remember, whatever makes you happy.”

Scott sighed, chewing his lip before he gave a nod of his head and finally stepped forward.

He climbed onto the scale with his eyes squeezed shut, stomach dropping when Stiles let out a tiny gasp.

“Bro…” He muttered, laughing just afterward as he gave Scott's belly a few firm pats, making him jump. 

“How much?” Scott asked, still refusing to open his eyes and look for himself. He just couldn't handle that, not with the way Stiles was reacting. It must have truly been awful if he wasn’t even willing to outright tell him.

Stiles snorted in response to the question, pressing a gentle kiss to Scott's neck. “More than 25 fucking pounds, that's for sure.”

“Just tell me, Stiles!”

“I thought you didn't want to know…”

Scott finally opened his eyes to give Stiles an irritated glare, though the expression melted away the moment Stiles leaned forward to give him a soft, apologetic kiss to his lips. Though, really, the gesture only made Scott that much more anxious. Stiles wouldn't even poke fun at him and that had to mean something truly devastating.

Stiles pulled back, their foreheads still pressed together as he did. He pouted a bit, looking genuinely sympathetic as he rubbed Scott in those tiny, soothing circles that really did help to calm him down a little. “Don’t feel bad, dude…”

“Is it that much?” Scott asked, fear making his stomach turn as he focused intently on Stiles’ eyes, refusing to face that number. He could only imagine how high it must have been if Stiles was actually refraining from his usual teasing and pinching.

“Not that much, but… yeah, it's a lot.” Stiles smiled, softly, one hand moving to stroke Scott's cheek.

Scott closed his eyes again, sighing. There was really no point in torturing himself any longer—he needed to know. “Just say it.”

“…234,”

Scott's eyes flew open wide, expression shocked as he finally turned his attention to the scale, refusing to accept that number until he saw it for himself. Stiles was right—the scale read 234 and Scott could barely believe his eyes.

He turned to his best friend, who almost managed to hold back a smug look, huge smile plastered to his mouth. “You must have weighed, what? Like, 170, 175 before, right? So, like… sixty pounds in three months?”

“Well,” Scott started, mind rushing to find every excuse in the book, “that scale has always been weird, Mom even says so. A-and I just had a huge meal, so we should definitely factor that in. Plus, a lot of it is muscle, dude—,”

Stiles cut him off with another firm kiss, hands finding the biggest roll of his belly to squeeze and jiggle. He pulled back with a wide grin, trailing soft pecks to Scott’s lips as he eased his mouth away. “You're so cute when you're embarrassed about your weight.”

“Shut up…” Scott whimpered, pushing his bottom lip out in a pout before Stiles kissed the expression away with a soft shake of his head.

“I think you could be a lot bigger, dude.” Stiles shrugged, guiding Scott off the scale and toward his bedroom. “And at the rate you're going, you totally will be.”

**

“Scott, all these shirts are smalls.” Stiles sighed, staring at the other boy with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, glancing over the tags of each shirt Scott had grabbed.

Scott shrugged, snatching them away with a huff before stomping toward the jeans. “I’m pretty sure this store runs big, dude. They’ll fit.”

Scott would definitely admit that his denial ran deep. Even after having exact numbers, knowing good and well he needed a bigger size, he still went for shirts that were tight months ago because facing a large would mean facing the major addition to his gut and Scott just wasn’t sure if he was ready for that.

Stiles simply rolled his eyes and followed behind Scott, going toward the larger end of the row of jeans with crossed arms. “Don't you think these sizes would suit you a little better?”

Scott shook his head and grabbed a pair only two sizes bigger than his old ones, figuring they'd work once he dropped a few more pounds. And he fully intended to, once he gone back to school and got away from all of Stiles’ goading and fast food and belly rubs.

“Dude,” Stiles whined and Scott only ignored him, bee-lining straight for the fitting rooms with a determined look on his face. 

He politely waved down an employee, flushing when the young woman took his clothes and lifted a brow at the items he'd picked out. She gave him a quick glance, licking her lips and checking the tags once more before shaking her head and keying open of the doors.

“Just… let me know if you need some other sizes.” She offered, placing them in the room as Stiles walked up behind her, snickering.

“Yeah, we will.” He muttered, grinning wide as Scott shot him a frustrated glare. The woman plastered on a pardoning smile and strode back over to the desk and the moment she was out of sight, Scott gave Stiles a much deserved shove.

“You're such an ass!”

“Scotty, come on.” Stiles said flatly, grabbing the jeans from Scott’s hands before he could stop him. “There's no way these will fit, so let's just—,”

“I'm at least trying them on!” Scott snapped, snatching them back and slipping into the fitting room before Stiles could protest. He eased down the only sweatpants that seemed to fit and tore off his shirt with quite a bit more effort than undressing should have required for a healthy boy his age.

He pointedly avoided looking in the mirror as he pulled on one of the shirts and forced the jeans over his ass. He sucked in, hard, pleased when they went on a whole lot easier than his other jeans. Though, they were still ridiculously tight. He ignored the discomfort, as well as the gentle breeze over the exposed bit of skin under the too small shirt he had on.

It would be good enough, he knew. The jeans would stretch throughout the day and after a few trips to the gym and once he’d cut late night snacks from his diet, Scott would be golden.

Though, he couldn’t help the way his heart pounded as he carefully opened up the door of the fitting room, terrified of Stiles’ response.

He looked Scott up and down, giggles slipping out even before his gaze landed on the hang of Scott’s belly that couldn’t be covered. He reached up and tugged lightly on the tight sleeves digging into the skin of Scott’s flabby arms, fingers trailing down his sides to the bottom of the shirt to lightly sweep over the exposed bit of warm, soft skin.

The touch made Scott flinch and grin against his will, eyes slipping shut at the incredibly delicate touch Stiles offered to him. “Looks amazing.”

Scott opened one eye, peaking up at his best friend with a skeptical look. “What?”

Stiles grinned and nodded, pulling at the hem of his shirt much too hard, pushing on the hang of Scott’s tummy, trying to force his chub underneath the fabric. Scott whined, embarrassment rising with each passing second.

“Stiles, quit it. It fits fine.” Scott murmured, face pink as he tried to not make his lie so painfully obvious, but the truth was in plain sight.

Stiles finally put on a straight face and crowded Scott up against the farthest wall. “Dude…”

“It does.” Scott whined, rolling his eyes when Stiles shook his head back and forth and let his lips brushed down the line of Scott’s jaw.

“Definitely doesn’t fit.” He murmured, finally tugging the shirt above the large bulge of Scott’s tummy, shivering at the way it jiggled once it was free of restraints. “And as much as I love watching you pop buttons, Melissa will destroy me if I let you waste good money on something that doesn’t fit you now, especially when we both know you’re on your way to getting a lot   
bigger.”

“Am not!” 

“Scotty,” Stiles sighed, pulling back to give his best friend a grin. “It is okay that you wanna eat until you’re ready to explode. Also, totally okay that you’ll probably gain thirty more pounds before you’re back for your next break. But what isn’t okay is walking around in clothes twelve sizes too small.”

Scott opened his mouth to protest and Stiles only pressed a finger to it. “So, we’re gonna ask this nice lady for some accurate sizes, okay? Okay.”

Stiles was nice enough to humor Scott for quite a while, let him try on a few sizes that weren’t exactly perfect, touching and jiggling, offering teasing comments as he played with Scott’s flab in the places it bulged out beneath the fabric that was digging into his skin.

Scott ended up purchasing jeans in the biggest size the store offered. He’d almost forgotten how great it felt to wear clothes that actually fit properly, and he kind of loved it. They looked nice and Stiles told him the jeans hugged his big ass absolutely perfectly, but he couldn’t help but feel beyond mortified just knowing he was fitting a large shirt and 46 waist pants.

And the fact that Stiles spent a good twenty minutes looking at plus-sized men stores because Scott was “only getting bigger”, didn’t help one bit. What did help, a little, was Stiles going to each one of Scott’s favorite restaurants in the food court and getting him his choice meal from every place.

He even did Scott the honor of feeding him in the back of the Jeep because he was much too embarrassed to actually pig-out in the mall like that, as much as Stiles claimed he would have loved to see.

Big Mac and a large fry from McDonald’s; fried rice, beef lo mien, and orange chicken from Panda Express; two slices of pepperoni from Pizza Hut; and a large blizzard from Dairy Queen.

Keeping the ice cream from melting was Stiles best motivation for getting Scott to eat as quickly as possible. Shockingly, it wasn’t hard. Not with Stiles right there, encouraging and groaning and dragging his cock along Scott’s thigh, telling him how amazing he looked stuffing his face like that.

He was hand fries and both slices of pizza because he couldn’t bare moving, not with his belly heavier and more swollen than it had been the entire weekend. He even had to unbutton his new jeans to accommodate for the way his belly poked out, happily allowing Stiles to rub at the tender spots during their short breaks.

By the time Scott had finally stuffed the last of the crust into his face (because Stiles was adamant about not letting a crumb go to waste), the ice cream was only halfway melted. 

And, of course, Stiles had him drink down every last bit. Scott wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

**

Scott gently stirred awake to the delicious scent of sausage, blinking his eyes open to find a link hovering above his face. He scrunched his brows together in confusion for a moment, but didn’t even question it before parting his lips for Stiles and letting him stuff the food into his mouth.

He's gotten all too used to being hand fed to his absolute limit in the last few days and he'd truly grown to adore it. He'd undoubtedly miss it once he'd gone back to school.

“You can wait until at least after lunch to leave, right?” Stiles asked, producing another link and easing it past Scott’s lips before he could even answer. He nodded, quickly, glancing over to the bedside table to find a mound of food before Stiles gently turned his face away from it.

“It’s a surprise, dude. Just sit back and enjoy.” Stiles laughed, reaching blindly toward the tray before his hand returned with a large, delicious looking donut, sprinkles and frosting and all. Scott’s face lit up at the sight of it and Stiles grinned, pressing a kiss to his forehead before giving Scott a large bite.

“Now, don’t expect this every morning.” Stiles said, handing the donut off to Scott to enjoy as he pleased before reaching over to grab a plate. It was loaded with scrambled eggs, littered with vegetables and ham and bacon, just the sight making Scott’s mouth water. “You’re only getting special treatment because it’s your last day here.”

Scott nodded, finishing the donut with haste, just so he could have himself a bit of those eggs. He opened his mouth and hummed around the large forkful Stiles eased onto his tongue and had his mouth open for more before he’d even finished the first bite.

Stiles was good at feeding. He knew exactly when Scott needed a break, knew exactly where to rub his belly whenever Scott groaned, knew how to balance the savory and sweet foods effortlessly. 

And, probably most importantly, he managed to make Scott feel surprisingly sexy, all the while teasing him relentlessly about the amount of food he could consume in one sitting. There was always a steady flow of comments, the murmur of pig under his breath, a statement about how much Scott could fit in his “cute little tummy”, Stiles going on and on about how sexy his best   
friend was when he truly enjoyed himself the way he wanted to. It made Scott more embarrassed than he could have imagined and made his cock ache all at once.

Scott was always shocked at how little time it took him to finished a meal. He'd glance at the clock and realize he'd been stuffing his face for almost an hour, barely addressing the fullness of his belly, and, deep down, wishing he had more to eat despite how utterly huge he felt. And in that moment, he only noticed nothing was left when both of Stiles’ hands were focused on his rubbing Scott's taut belly and the flow of food stopped.

“Half a dozen donuts all stuffed into this belly.” Stiles muttered, shaking his head as he ran his hand across the largest bulge, swollen tight and packed with as much food as poor Scotty could handle. He whined, putting his arms above his head as Stiles rubbed the hot skin in soothing circles.

“I’m so full.” He moaned, closing his eyes as Stiles put a bit of pressure on the bulge, causing Scott to belch. He didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed about it.

“It’s no wonder. You know how many eggs were on that plate? Like ten. Plus, an entire package of sausages and did I mention six gigantic donuts?” Stiles shook his head in disbelief before bending forward to kiss along Scott’s neck. “I’m surprised you didn’t burst.”

“Me too.” Scott groaned, the usual ache of regret finally washing over him, but Stiles’ soft touch definitely helped to ease the guilt a little bit. He inched up Scott’s shirt, hands roaming up and down his skin as Scott relaxed fully against the mattress.

“How long do you think it’ll be before these clothes are too tight?” Stiles asked, pulling back from Scott with a wide grin. Scott flushed, rolling his eyes, but it only seemed to coax him further. 

“Seriously, man. It already stretches so tight across your tummy when you’re all stuffed like this.”

“I think you’re over exaggerating.” Scott mumbled, shaking his head, though his embarrassment was obvious and Stiles only seemed to pounce on it.

“You can’t even sit up to look, can you?” He asked, shifting until he straddled Scott’s hips, cock stiff against his pudge. Scott pouted and shook his head, feeling his heart flutter when Stiles offered a sympathetic moan and reached up to comb through his hair. “Don’t worry, big boy, I’ll take good care of you, as always.”

Scott flushed at the nickname but before he could even make a comment about it, Stiles was leaning forward to press a long, deep kiss to his lips, tongue slipping into his mouth. Scott groaned, hands reaching up to squeeze at Stiles’ shoulders, panting when the other boy’s hips seemed to move a little quicker against his belly.

Stiles pulled back, lip caught between his teeth. “Okay, dude,” he panted, smarmy grin on his mouth, “how full are you?”

“Stiles, please…”

“What? I have a proposition.” He leaned forward again, pressing a kiss to the center of Scott’s chest before moving across the material of his shirt to mouth at his nipple, the sort of teasing that could easily make Scott bend to Stiles’ whim.

“I can’t eat another bite.” Scott moaned and Stiles only shushed him, softly, lifting his shirt up to his armpits to lick over Scott’s warm skin, biting gently at his chest.

“I’ll make you come if you can just eat one more donut, okay? Just one.”

“Stiles, seriously, I—,” Stiles palmed him, flicking his tongue over Scott’s nipple before latching on to give a curt suck. Scott moaned, throwing his head back and actually managed to roll his hips despite how heavy he felt. Stiles pulled back after a moment, though, reaching out to the bedside table and picking up a donut with a pleading look.

“It’s your favorite, Scotty.” He whispered, pressing the lightest kiss to the corner of Scott’s mouth. “Chocolate with white frosting and extra sprinkles, so sugary and sweet and I bet you’re just dying to have it.”

“Come on, dude, I’ll pop.” Scott whined, though he couldn’t help the way his mouth watered at the sight, the most delicious and largest donut Stiles had offered up to him yet, so perfect that it almost seemed meticulously planned.

Stiles grinned, shifting to roll his hips against Scott’s now aching cock and nodded his head. “And you’ll come, man. I’ll make you come so fucking hard, it’ll be so worth it. Just eat the last donut, okay? Think of it as a snack before lunch.”

He stuck out his bottom lip and whined, his whole body begging for Scott to just do what he asked and it didn’t take much for him to cave, not when there was a perfectly good donut hovering right above his face.

He opened his mouth, flushing at how widely Stiles smiled, smug excitement in his eyes as he stuffed as much he could into Scott’s mouth. He moaned, taking a few moments to chew and swallow and closed his mouth before Stiles could shove more in.

His stomach growled in protest to more food, causing him to wince and whine and Stiles dragged a gentle hand down the curve of Scott’s bulging stomach. He pushed at a stiff spot of his belly, making him burp a few times and he felt a little better after a few moments. He breathed, evenly, before finally opening his mouth again.

“There we go, knew you wanted more.” Stiles grinned, giving Scott’s stuffed cheek a kiss after easing another bite that was much too big into his mouth. “So greedy, man, fuck. I bet you could finish in one more bite if you work at it.”

Scott chewed carefully, groaning and panting once he’d finished chewing, staring up at Stiles with pleading eyes. He only pressed into his gut, working at the sore spots until Scott let his jaw fall slack again. He rubbed himself harder against Scott’s cock as the last bit slipped into Scott’s mouth, even moved his jaw to help his best friend chew down the sugary treat until there   
wasn’t a thing left to do but make Scott lick his fingers.

Scott sighed, both of his hands flying to the soft flesh of his sides, continuous moans slipping through his lips. “Oh my God, dude…”

“You- holy shit.” Stiles laughed, hips pumping harder against Scott’s, making his moans of discomfort quickly melt into moans of pleasure. Scott’s heart pounded as he spread his legs, belly on complete display for Stiles to grope. “I can’t believe you really ate that.”

“Shut up,” Scott whined, finally dropping his arms to grab onto Stiles’ ass, trying to work him a little faster. “You made me do it, you got me all horny.”

“You were already horny and you know it.” Stiles scoffed, biting at Scott’s neck before his lips trailed down his collarbone, now covered in a thin layer of fat that definitely hadn’t been there a few months ago.

Stiles finally slipped his hand into Scott’s boxers and got his fingers around the shaft of his cock, giving one firm pump just to drag a “please” from Scott’s lips before finally working up to an even pace. Stiles’ hips never stopped, continuously thrusting against the smooth skin of Scott’s belly, hand squeezing into the rolls that had formed low on Scott’s hips.

“Fuck,” Stiles cursed, shaking his head back and forth as he gave Scott’s lips a long, needy kiss and pulled back much too soon. “Dude, seriously… how much bigger do you think you’ll get?”

“Stiles,” Scott whined, surprised at the fact that the question only seemed to make him harder.

“I’m serious, man.” Stiles breathed, twisting his wrist and grinning at the way Scott keened. “I mean, you’re on your way to getting pretty fucking huge if I’m being honest. I mean, seriously, you had enough food for both of our households combined just for breakfast, dude.”

“You brought it to me.” Scott whined defensively, the sentence trailing off when Stiles brushed his thumb over the head of Scott’s cock. He shook his head, sucking a light bruise into Scott’s neck.

“And you stuffed it into your belly.” Stiles shrugged, dragging his nose along Scott’s jaw with a long sigh. “Your big, bloated belly that pops buttons on jeans and makes your t-shirts ride up and—,”

“Turns you on like nothing else.” Scott offered, grinning widely as Stiles gave him a pinch in retaliation. He strained his neck with puckered lips, earning a sweet kiss from his best friend as he sped up the pace of his pumps.

“It really does.” Stiles whispered after pulling back again, angling himself a little differently, moaning lewdly at what seemed to be a very pleasurable shift. “I’m gonna cream in my boxers if I don’t get them off.”

“You’re such a fourteen year old boy.” Scott joked, though he couldn’t help the spike of pleasure that rushed through him at knowing he reduced Stiles to humping against him like a desperate teenager just by over eating.

“I’m serious, man. Are you close?”

Scott nodded, heat rushing up and down his spine already and the way Stiles tightened his grip didn’t help to stop it. He moaned, mouth falling open as he got a tighter grip on Stiles’ ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as Stiles curled his hips harder, faster, his hand pumping frantically along Scott’s cock.

There was barely a minute before Scott was finally coming, weak noises slipping out of his mouth as his hips jumped with every spurt of his cock. Only a beat passed before Stiles’ body went rigid, face buried in Scott’s neck as he groaned into the skin, twitching just barely as he rode through the very end of his climax.

“Holy fuck,” Stiles whined, panting as he eased away from Scott, frowning down at the large wet spot on his jeans. “That’s disgusting.”

“You’re gonna have to clean us both up.” Scott sighed, head plopping back down onto the pillows as exhaustion washed over him, small smile on his mouth. “I’m totally beached, dude. I couldn’t move if I tried.”

“You’re gonna get me hard again before I can even change my pants, man.”

**

A week out from break and Scott had actually managed to put on a grand total of nine pounds despite the fact that he promised himself he’d cut down the second he got back to school.

But the second he got back to school, Stiles goaded him into eating an entire pot of spaghetti because he had to skip lunch thanks to the much needed nap he and Stiles took after breakfast and everything seemed to tumble downhill from there.

But it was almost a given with the way Stiles treated him. They texted all day, the way they always had, and Stiles was periodically asking what Scott had last eaten, if he was still enjoying himself at school, saying he probably deserved a sugary treat for finishing that assignment or making all of his classes or stuffing himself so well with dinner.

And Scott truly couldn’t deny that he adored all the praise he got. Stiles was more than impressed each time Scott relayed to him that he had a particularly large meal and especially loved before and after pictures of heaping plates of food. And his favorite thing seemed to be snaps of his belly right before he ate and when he was laying down on his back, too stuffed to get up   
for much of anything.

In return, he always received a picture of Stiles’ stiff cock in his fist, something Scott usually couldn't enjoy until after a long nap and his food settled enough for him to actually get up.

Of course, now that there was nothing left to hide from Stiles, they could actually Skype and they did that rather often, too.

“Hey!” Stiles said, wide smile on his mouth as he adjusted his laptop, trying to get a better angle. “How'd that exam go?”

“It went all right. I think missing that review session kind of screwed me over...” 

“Oh, whatever, Scott. You know damn well you could tutor that course and you haven't even completed it yet. You'll do fine, wipe that worried look off your face.” Stiles grinned, waggling his brows a moment later. “Are you gonna treat yourself if you get an A, dude?”

That became a sort of ritual of Scott's—a reward system that always served him well in high school. He'd have extra dessert whenever he aced a test, used gummy bears for studying, held off on meals until he finished his homework.

He supposed he'd gotten a bit carried away in college, but… he managed to maintain a 3.7 GPA through midterms.

Scott flushed a little, shrugging. “Well, I kinda already did…”

“I thought your stomach looked a little rounder then usual.” Stiles laughed, biting his lip as Scott flushed and rolled his eyes. “What did you have?”

“A burrito...”

“Sounds like a snack compared to what you usually eat.” Stiles said, tone a bit accusatory as he raised a skeptical brow with a shake of his head.

Scott huffed, arms crossing over his stomach. “Fine. I had two burritos, a whole bag of chips, and two containers of pico.”

“How big were the burritos?”

Scott held up his hands, putting about seven inches of distance between them and made a circle with his fingers, roughly three inches in diameter.

Stiles groaned, his hand swiftly disappearing off screen to rest between his legs. “How the hell do you fit it all in?”

Scott shrugged and hid his face, embarrassed, yet somehow proud, like he accomplished something from eating so much.

“Dude,” Stiles breathed, sounding like he had an idea, something Scott knew usually didn't end well, “you still got that ice cream? The pint you were too full to finish the other day?”

Scott peaked out from where he hid behind his hands, nodding. He'd gotten some rocky road and only enjoyed a spoonful before he realize his stomach literally couldn't take it and not even Stiles’ virtual encouragements could help him, then. Maybe if they'd been together…

“Yeah, it's in there.” Scott mumbled and Stiles looked ecstatic, shifting clumsily in his chair as he stared at his best friend through the screen. 

“Have it now! You made it through that exam, you probably aced it and I haven't gotten to see you eat in so long.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Not everything is about your dick, you know?” He sighed, rolling his eyes, but the thought of caramel and chocolate ice cream packed into Scott's belly was just about the best thing he could imagine at the moment.

He was on his feet a moment later, ignoring Stiles’ mocking applause he went to the freezer and pulled out the tub. He tore off the top on his way back, tossing it into the garbage because there wasn't a doubt in Scott's mind that he'd finish it one sitting.

He plopped down onto his chair, making himself comfortable as he stuck his spoon into the hard ice cream.

He found that it was much better to keep it as cold as possible, considering it usually melted before Scott was done if he was trying to avoid brain freeze.

But he definitely wasn't above guzzling down every last melted sugary drop.

He stuffed a spoonful into his mouth, humming and sitting back into his chair with closed eyes. He’d almost forgotten Stiles was watching until he heard a familiar hum from his computer’s speakers.

“Enjoying yourself, big boy?” Stiles asked, chuckling quietly at the embarrassed face Scott pulled. He nodded, having another spoonful, licking it clean before digging in again.

He paused after a few eager bites, trying to avoid the inevitable headache he knew would come from eating with a little too much haste and watched Stiles for a bit.

He could tell from the slow, even movement of his arm that he was touching himself, let alone the dazed expression on his face—open mouth and lidded eyes, excitement obvious.

“Looks like you're enjoying yourself, too.” Scott grinned, his own cock straining against his jeans with how hard he was already, but he wanted to tease.

Before Stiles could even answer, Scott was carefully lifting his shirt, showing off the large bulge near the top of his belly where all of his food had seemed to settle.

“It's pretty tight.” Scott laughed, cheeks flushed as he rubbed his hands gently along his skin. Stiles whined, hand moving faster as he leaned a little more toward his computer screen, almost looking completely helpless. “Wish you were here to give me good belly rubs.”

Stiles gave a quiet laugh, nodding. “Me too. And I don't think I would have let you take a break for this long.”

He raised a brow, gesturing toward where Scott's ice cream sat. “Aren't you hungry?”

Scott giggled and nodded, picking up the container again and easing a few more bites into his mouth, humming around his spoon. He rubbed his stomach in large, smooth circles, letting his hand slip a little low with each sweep toward the bottom of his hang, brushing along his cock.

“No touching until you're at least halfway done.” Stiles said firmly, seeming to catch the little gesture. Scott have a dazed nod, too entranced in the food to really pay much mind to Stiles. He figured he’d be told to hold off and fully prepared himself for that.

He shoved spoonful after spoonful past his lips, tub resting on his bulging belly, something he found had more convenience than he expected. He hadn’t even realized that his eyes slipped shut in pleasure at the sweet taste of the caramel packed ice cream until he heard Stiles whine for his attention.

“How far are you?” He breathed the moment Scott looked at him. The boy flushed and looked down, eyes going wide when he realized it was halfway done. He bit his lip, sticking his spoon in the softening cream for reference, angling it so that Stiles could peer inside. “It’s been fifteen minutes…”

“It’s good ice cream!” Scott defended, snatching the tub back and slipping another spoonful into his mouth with a soft moan. He couldn’t help it, it really was delicious. He caught Stiles shaking his head and his hand pumping ridiculously fast before his eyes were closed again, tongue swirling around the silver spoon as his pace began to slow, the ache of his belly noticeable enough for him to be unable to ignore it.

He groaned, carefully tossing his head back, angled just so that he could still see his computer screen and Stiles’ grinning face. “Need a little motivation?”

Scott chuckled quietly, raising a brow as his fingers danced down the curve of his tummy. “Are you giving me permission to jerk off, Stiles?”

“I’m encouraging it.”

Scott outright laughed and unbuckled his jeans, his belly pooling out easily and already, he felt like he could have a little more ice cream, but it could wait. His cock was aching to be touched and Stiles was practically drooling to watch him play.

He gave a light tug, hissing at the rush of pleasure that flew up his spine and listened closely as Stiles’ breathing picked up, the motion of his arm steadily moving quicker. “If you’re gonna touch yourself, you should probably be eating, too.”

Scott didn’t even wait for Stiles’ poor logic, the taste of caramel packed vanilla was too tantalizing for him to turn down. He managed to balance the tub on his stomach, easing a large spoonful into his mouth, the melted bits dripping down his chin as he hummed around the spoon.

“You’re so fucking messy, dude.” Stiles commented, head shaking back and forth, hand slowing down again as if he were trying to keep from coming too quickly. “I bet you’re going to have drink the rest of it, buddy.”

“Still pretty solid.” Scott mumbled through his food, muscles clenching a little at the cool drip of ice cream onto his skin from the side of the container. He giggled, face red as Stiles rolled his eyes, though his arousal was still as obvious as ever. “Okay… maybe I should just drink it.”

Stiles gave a knowing nod, watching carefully as Scott spun in his chair until he was sideways to the computer, an angle Stiles always seemed to love. He winked, hand rubbing over his round, bulging tummy, hands attempting to mimic Stiles’ perfected rubs, but he was never quite as good.

Stiles whined when Scott had apparently teased for too long, finally chewing his lip before lifting the side of the tub to his lips. He drank easily, the cool cream sliding into his mouth and down his throat as he moaned and worked his fist faster over his cock.

He pulled it back, licking a few stray drops of cream that ran over his chin as a tiny burp slipped. through his lips. He spread this legs and moved the container to show Stiles how empty it was, tiny smile on his mouth.

“Bro,” 

“That was so delicious.” Scott groaned, head lolling onto the back of his chair as he worked his cock faster. “God, I wish I had more.”

“How can you? You have to be stuffed.” Stiles whispered, arm moving so fast that Scott thought it might slip out of the socket.

“I am, but.. its good.” Scott whined, breathless and embarrassed and he only wished Stiles was there with him.

The conversation seemed to stop, then, the only sounds coming out of the speakers were Stiles’ desperate moans to spur Scott on. And damn, it was all he needed.

There was barely a minute before Scott was coming onto his belly, long ropes spurting out as his hips curled at the incredible heat that pooled in his belly.

“Fuck,” Stiles cursed, looking exhausted with his head pressed to the table and Scott could only assume that he'd come, too. “Fuck, that was so good, dude.”

“I'm such a mess. I don't know what's come and what's ice cream.” Scott murmured, laughing as Stiles stared dryly at him.

“You're kind of a pig, dude.”

“Tell me about it.”

**

Scott stood in front of the school’s gym with a nervous expression, heart pounding in his chest as he faced the large glass doors and sweaty bodies and dangerous equipment that he really didn’t have much experience with.

It looked almost unfamiliar, considered he’d only managed to stop in once toward the beginning of the semester, before he became a little overwhelmed with school work and decided that finding time for food was much more important to him than finding time to exercise.

But, upon realizing that he got winded walking up the single flight of stairs to his dorm room on the second floor, he decided he needed to get in shape again.

Though, he didn’t think he’d ever been more intimidated by something in his entire life—all muscular guys with lots of strength and amazing goals and none of the extra weight Scott had sitting in his belly from a lunch of two foot long subs.

He swallowed thickly, finally scanning in his key card and walking in, definitely happy he’d decided to go at a time when the place was usually almost deserted. The student working at the front desk went wide eyed upon seeing him, clearly taken aback from the added weight since the beginning of the semester.

Scott was incredibly fit by most people’s standards, given that he worked out daily before he went off to college, played sports and worked hard to keep his body in the best shape that it could be. In fact, he distinctly remembered the girl giving him flirty eyes when he’d gone down just three months prior. Now she stood, mouth wide open and cheeks flushed like she could barely believe who was standing in front of her.

“Hi, um,” she shook her head, trying to find her tongue, “don’t forget to clean the equipment and the towels are over there.” She gestured behind her back with her thumb, eyes lingering on Scott’s belly for much too long for his liking (he’d already decided that those types of stares were reserved for Stiles and Stiles alone) and he finally gave a hasty thank you and walked deeper into the room.

He chose to start with something simple: cardio. He would run for a half an hour, maybe lift a little for half of another, then he’d treat himself to a brownie or another reasonable snack for his hard work.

Easy.

He really didn’t expect to work up such a sweat after the first five minutes of his run, considering he usually jogged at two miles per hour for at least sixty minutes for his usual warm up and lifted for another two after that. 

But his jog had dissolved into a brisk walk by the end of ten, his muscles exhausting much faster than they used to. He was close to giving up, but in his determination, he completed the cardio portion, even if he did walk for the vast majority of it.

Afterward, he spent much too long staring at the dumbbells, pondering whether or not he’d save himself the embarrassment and just go back to his dorm.

But, in his yearning to not leave feeling as though he couldn’t have been more of a failure, he decided he’d treat himself to two brownies if he actually did thirty minutes of lifting—which was still in an incredibly healthy reward, considering.

He sighed, picking up the twenty pound weights and grinning when he didn’t struggle much with them—maybe he wasn’t as out of shape as he expected.

But he quickly found that he couldn’t go nearly as hard as he used to, took more breaks than he would have wanted and spent more time pacing himself than he did actually working out. 

But, overall, he did feel a little better once he left the gym, having spent the full hour he planned to be there exercising to the best of his ability. He set a goal and he reached it, even if he’d only done the bare minimum. Plus, he’d undoubtedly worked off the brownies he planned to treat himself to.

Of course, once he opened the box, he didn’t exactly stop at two or three or really until the entire container was empty. And afterward, he convinced himself he’d work it off at the gym the next day, easily.

Or so he hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome :)


End file.
